


Pinkie Promise

by spikesgirl58



Category: Man from Uncle - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 06:17:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You can never break a pinkie promise</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pinkie Promise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yelizaveta](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Yelizaveta).



 

 “But do you pinkie promise?”

 

Illya looked at his partner with confusion.  “Do I what?”

 

“Pinkie promise.  Where were you raised?  In a cave?”

 

“Worse.  I was raised in the Soviet Union.  Such talk over there would have you committed.  What is this pink promise?”

 

“Pinkie.”  Napoleon held his little finger out to Illya and nodded his encouragement.  After a moment, Illya mimicked the action and Napoleon curled his finger around Illya’s.  “This is a pinkie promise and it can’t and mustn’t ever be broken.”

 

“This indicates an unbreakable contract?” Illya was dubious.  “Why?” 

 

“Why?  I don’t know.  Thats just the way it is.”

 

“You are a man possessed by the spirit of a four-year -ld girl.”  Illya shook his head slowly. 

 

Napoleon nodded.  “You have no idea.  We go into this partnership together and we come out the other side together.”

 

 “Not a four-year-old girl.  Mr. Waverly has partnered me with a maniac. There can be no guarantees, not for men like us.”

 

“Wanna bet?”  The look of the devil glowed in Napoleon’s eyes.  “Wanna pinkie promise?”

 

“A maniac…”

 

                                                                ****

 

Napoleon tried to draw a breath and winced.  He had one cracked rib, maybe two.  The pain radiated across his chest.  It hurt to breathe; it hurt to move; it hurt to think.

 

Somehow, he managed to make his way to Illya.  Illya wasn’t in much better shape.  His breathing was harsh and his hand trembled when Napoleon held the canteen out to him.

 

“How are you holding up?”

 

“I would have to be dead to feel well enough to die.”  Illya coughed and winced.   The knife wound to his side wasn’t fatal, but at this point in the game, that didn’t matter.  “How much longer?”

 

“Daylight.”  Napoleon checked his watch.  “A couple more hours.  The chopper will be able to land then.”

 

“What if THRUSH finds us first?”

 

“Um… we improvise, but they aren’t going to find us first.”  Illya slumped back against the cave wall, too miserable to care if he lived or died at the moment.  He was just so tired.  Napoleon shifted, grunted and groaned his way to Illya’s side and pulled him close.  He rested his cheek against Illya’s forehead.  “You are burning up.”  Napoleon suddenly, impetuously kissed the sweaty brow.

 

“What are you doing?”  Illya would have pulled away, but he lacked the energy or the desire.  It felt good to be this close to Napoleon.

 

“Reassuring you that everything will be fine.”

 

“How do you know?” 

 

“Know?  I don’t know… it’s just a feeling I have.  I promise we will see the other side of this, Illya.”

 

“You… promise?”

 

“I…” and then Napoleon smiled.  “I pinkie promise.”

 

“That fills me with such confidence.”  Nevertheless, Illya stretched out his hand and hooked his finger around Napoleon’s.

 

It was how the rescue squad found them the next morning, together, hands still joined.  It, however, never made it to any reports.

 

 

 

Illya sat at his desk, a sense of sadness washing over him.  At this time tomorrow, this would all be a memory.  Today, he retired from active duty and his heart was torn.  Where had all the years gone?  At forty, he felt at the top of his game, but only until he watched the younger agents - the ones who hadn’t experienced some of the finer aspects of THRUSH hospitality or had to say goodbye to colleagues and friends again and again. 

 

That was when the years weighed upon him.  Of course, his career in UNCLE was far from over.  He still had years of service before being presented with the gold watch, but for some reason, this felt so…well, as if someone had ripped his heart out and cut a large section of it away before tossing the heart back to him.

 

The door opened and Napoleon stuck his head in.  “There you are.  It’s time to go, old friend.  It wouldn’t do for you to be late to your own party.”

 

“I do not feel very much like partying, Napoleon.”

 

Napoleon hesitated and then entered the office and let the door close behind him.  Once he was sure it was shut, he went to the blond and wrapped his arms around him.  “Hurts, doesn’t it?”

 

“More than you can know.”

 

“Oh, I think I can guess.  I’ve been through this myself and I’m pleased to admit, it’s not terminal.”

“It just feels that way.”

 

“Yeah.”  Napoleon released Illya and brushed his hair back to study the eyes.  “But it will get better.  Then he grinned boyishly and held up his hand.  “I pinkie promise.”

 

Illya laughed and all was better, if not perfect, in his world again.             

 

                                                                                ****

 

They walked along the beach just as the sun was starting to dip towards the horizon.  This afternoon they had spent in each other’s arms, making love until they were too exhausted to move.

 

Then at some point, the sea called to them and they rose, dressed, and walked the sand, just the two of them, a few raucous gulls and the surf.  Illya glanced over at Napoleon.  The years had been good to him.  True, the dark hair was silvered and the hairline had receded, the flesh was wrinkled and sagged in spots, but to Illya, the man was forever young.

 

“What are you thinking about?”  Napoleon met Illya’s gaze with an expectant look.

 

“How kind the years have been to us.  We survived our impetuous youth, everything that THRUSH and the rest of the world could throw at us.  We avoided major illness that took so many of our friends and we are still here.  Still together and still us”

 

“What did I tell you?”  Napoleon held out a hand, the dying sunlight catching the gold of a wedding band and glinting off it.  Its mate was on Illya’s hand.  Napoleon hooked Illya’s little finger and grinned.  “Nothing breaks a pinkie promise.”

 


End file.
